


The Town of Night: In The Morn

by orphan_account



Category: Welcome to Night Vale, wtnv
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The briefest of drabbles as a test for the tone of Cecil, and the atmosphere of our beloved Night Vale. Simple practise as a build up to a possible Cecil RP account. Please, review!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Town of Night: In The Morn

There was a sensitivity that alerted Cecil, as the dawn stuck above the crusted landscape of a city suspended in the quickened atmosphere of reality. The lights twinkled over the sites, and the static grew increasingly louder as dawn ascended into the first shadows of day. Already the air was heated, beginning the onslaught of scorching heat that baked the desert dirt to clay, successfully eradicating any shrubbery or unprotected mammals that dared to rest beneath it’s rays. Night Vale, though much despite it’s name, was taking life in the morn. 

From the ever cool cotton sheets that lined a well-worn mattress, Cecil rose, taking to life alongside the spirit of the town. He moved in breathless spurts of movements, checking his phone, reading emails, and shooing away the shadows that formed alongside his stoop, well from the safety of his own balcony. 

And then, the shower. Brief, cool water, lathered soap (often too much, for he liked the feel of frothy hair), shower gel with a mild, and far from overpowering scent, loofa, condition, rinse, and then he continued to stand within the spray of the shower humming to himself warming his voice for the morning news. The water was pleasant this morning, the fluorescent water glowing within the white walled tub.

Pulling back the shower curtain, drying himself off in the heat of his apartment, and flopping about his tousled, platinum hair, Cecil stared back at the reflection of himself. Despite what city council had stated, such being that the images in mirrors are lies and not to be trusted, Cecil found this particular lie to be rather dashing. And so, he slid on his clothes, dashed on some radioactive decay scented cologne, rolled his sleeves, tightened his suspenders, and crept out the door, paying mind to check both ways before crossing the street. 

The way to the station was a rather short one, a walk past the dog park, eyes glued to the cement as the static grew louder every time he dared glance up, and straight down the street. 

Once inside, it was a rather quick trip to the men’s room, a quick washing of the hands with City Council approved soap, a quick pet for the station mascot, and then off to the recording booth. 

Once inside, Cecil dimmed the lights, and sat for a moment in complete silence. Sometimes, not very often, but sometimes, the broadcaster could hear a faint mumbling, sometimes gurgling, from the station management. It was both intriguing, and frightening, and for that reason, Cecil felt compelled to listen. 

Setting his phone down on the desk, and setting it to vibrate, the man began his routine. Adjusting his position, craning his neck from side to side, cracking his knuckles, gently setting his headphones amidst the jungle of untamed white ringlets, and sliding the microphone to his face. A smile graced his lips, and his finger slid to the live air button.

With a press, a red glow surrounded the room, and Cecil tilted his head into his palm whilst his other fingers toyed with his headset cords, and he began to speak.  
“The void seems vast, empty, and crushes our hearts with the vacuum of space, and yet, we look on. Welcome to Night Vale”

“Back to our developing story from last night. City Council has again stated, with certainty, that carrots are not supposed to be orange. In fact, they claim that the colour orange is not even a viable colour and should be forgotten… Immediately. They also stated, in a rather calm fashion, that any that think turquoise carrots are bad, also think that peas are not to be red, and I think we can all agree how outrageous that statement is.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Written by starryroads.tumblr.com)


End file.
